Read Online A Woman Lost by T. B. Markinson - Free Book Online

piled on top of each other in such a tiny office. Really, Lizzie, you need a designer.” She laughed and added, “And a candle, or some incense or something. It’s very stale in there. Maybe your fave: clean cotton.”
    I started to laugh.
    She looked at me, unsure whether she had offended me.
    “Bravo! Bravo. No one has pegged me so quickly. Not only that, but no one has realized I don’t mind being chained to my studies. I love that I am. Would you help me put it on my wrist, please?”
    She smiled and looked relieved.
    “But shouldn’t I be the one getting you gifts … to help you celebrate your upcoming nuptials?”
    “Oh, you aren’t getting out of buying me a gift or two. Trust me. I’m a girl who likes gifts.”
    “I don’t doubt it. Well, since you drove all the way up here to give me this.” I rattled the silver chain. “Can I take you to lunch, madame?”
    “Why, yes, of course you can.”
    We both laughed together. It was so easy to be around her. I couldn’t explain it, except that it was easy. Usually, I didn’t get along with people all that well. I preferred books. Give me Dickens any day. But maybe not today.
    * * *
    Sitting at Coopersmith’s, both bundled up in sweaters this time, we chatted.
    “Does your dad ever talk?” Maddie asked.
    I wiped a smudge off my water glass. “No. Not much. And when he does, it’s more like barking orders. He usually starts every sentence with a verb. Not a statement‌—‌a command.”
    “I feel like I can’t make a connection with the man‌—‌see, I just called him ‘the man,’ not my future father-in-law, or by his name, Charles.”
    “Don’t take it too personally. ‘The man,’ as you say, doesn’t communicate all that well. He doesn’t communicate with anyone, unless it’s a computer.
    “I remember a time when my father tried to throw away a trash can. It was an old one, so it was pretty beat up, with holes and a stench that would kill a rat‌—‌maybe a rat had died in it‌—‌anyhoos, he placed it in a much larger trash can. When the trash guys came, they carefully pulled the beat-up can out of the other trash can and set it on the curb with the remaining cans. ‘The man’ was furious. His face was beet-red and a vein in his forehead was popping out. I could tell he was having a temper tantrum, even if he didn’t say anything. The next trash day, he hid it inside one of the larger trash cans under a lot of wet, stinky garbage. But when he came home from work, there it was again, sitting on the curb with the other trash cans.
    “The following week, he set it next to all of the others with a note that read: ‘This is trash, please take it.’ When he came home, he saw they’d removed the note, and presumably threw it away, but left the can. It outraged Dad beyond belief. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, and when he’s angry, it is a sight to behold. The next week, he was determined to be rid of the can.
    “That next trash day was a little windy. When it was like that, sometimes one of the trash cans would wind up in a ravine in the hogback. One of us would have to traipse down there and retrieve it. When I left for school, I didn’t remember seeing the old trash can. But when my father came home that night, he was ecstatic it had finally gone, but so had another one. My father walked down to the ravine and retrieved one.
    “For some reason, I decided to walk down there, too. I just had this feeling. And, of course, I saw the old trash can down there. He must have seen it too, but decided this was his only way of getting rid of the damn thing.”
    Maddie laughed while I told the story. I didn’t realize right away, but that was the most I had ever said to her at one time. It was the most I had said to anyone in a long time actually, unless it was a lecture, or to Ethan.
    “I can’t believe they threw the note away but left the can. That’s one of the oddest things I’ve heard in a while.”
    “Wow, you